Called to Account
by Andrea13 and PersephoneKore
Summary: Even in a changed timeline, some accounts must still be settled. An acromantula won't be hidden forever, and Tom Riddle's curiosity and anger about his father must eventually be faced...and dealt with. Sixth in the Stepbrothers AU.
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended._

Authors' note: Sixth in the Stepbrothers AU series, takes place during and after Tom's sixth year and Rubeus's fourth.

**Called to Account  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Chapter 1**

*****

A wolf-whistle greeted Tom as he walked in front of the mirror in his dormitory. "Shut it, you," he muttered, pulling out his comb and running it through his hair.

"Even mirrors are coming on to you now, Tom?" Jeffrey laughed, looking over from where he was flopped on his bed. Shortly before the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, the Slytherin boys were all ready early.

All except Tom Riddle.

"Just because _you_ don't mind looking like a house elf doesn't mean all of us feel the same, you know," Tom retorted. "Of course, some of us are just naturally more blessed than others."

"Mm-hmm. Blessed. Doesn't have a thing to do with spending an hour getting dressed. It's just _Hogsmeade_, Tom."

"To us poor mortals, maybe," one of the other boys laughed, "but don't you know? Tom's got a _date_."

"You boys can have fun playing around at Zonko's," Tom said calmly, giving his hair one last pass before setting down the comb.

"And where are you taking the Gryffindor?" Jeffrey asked with a grin.

"You don't think I'm just going to _tell_ you, do you?"

"It's not like we couldn't watch and find out. Sure, Hogsmeade's bigger than it looks, but we all start out at the same spot."

"Of course you can, but at least this way you have to put some effort into it."

From his seat by the window, Elliot stretched out casually and remarked, "Must say, I never saw you for following in your mum's footsteps. A _Gryffindor_." He sighed loudly. "_What_ would Slytherin say?"

"Since Sharessa likes Moira, I'd say he'd approve," Tom replied dryly.

"Well, there's that. At least it was _those_ footsteps -- MacMillan's a good family."

Tom blinked. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, "What do you mean _those_ footsteps?" but it occurred to him at the last second what Elliot meant. "Better a Gryffindor than a Muggle, you mean?" he asked casually, tucking his wand into his pocket and heading for the door. "I'll be sure to tell my mum you approve."

"Oh --" The door slammed over the sound of what Tom suspected was an entirely nonmagical curse.

Tom strode through the common room and out into the hallways before his roommates could catch up, angrily straightening his robes as he walked. It wasn't the first time he'd been teased about his relationship with Moira, but it was the first time someone had suggested the only reason they were together was because she was sufficiently pureblooded! At least the first time to his _face_.

It couldn't have anything to do with just _liking_ her, of course not. Idiots.

Even if everyone seemed to prefer his mother's _second_ choice, he couldn't ignore that it was the _first_ one who'd fathered him. Even if Uncle Tavish had been his father in every way _but_ that. And... to tell the truth, he preferred him too, even if his mother did insist that the break with her first husband had been partly her own fault as well. But it wasn't Uncle Tavish's blood in him. It wasn't Uncle Tavish's name he bore. It was the Muggle's.

He certainly hadn't picked Moira out on the basis of her family. If he'd wanted a pureblooded girlfriend and that was all, there were plenty -- quite a few of whom had only stopped flirting with him themselves when the gossip chain had told them he and Moira had essentially paired off. He wondered a bit uncomfortably if he'd have got interested in her without it... but he'd started thinking he'd like to kiss her long after they'd started spending time together with their respective pets.

It _didn't_ matter. Anyway, Slytherin apparently hadn't been as obsessed with purebloods as many now seem to think, or his basilisk wouldn't have been as enthusiastic about accepting a halfblood as his Heir. Tom comforted himself with that thought enough to put on his usual charming smile as he appeared in the entrance hall and sought out Moira.

"Look out, Moira. The serpent approacheth," remarked a Gryffindor third-year. Tom might have taken offense, except that both of the boy's parents had been Slytherins -- so the ominous tone was probably good humored.

He obligingly came forward to take her hand and said, "Good morning to you too." Then he raised an eyebrow and hissed something else in the third-year's direction. The boy looked like he couldn't decide whether he should laugh or be insulted.

"All right, what did you just say to him?" Moira grinned. "And good morning. Will you be appalled if I announce that I want ice cream for lunch?"

"Hmm." Tom frowned over this and rubbed his chin consideringly. "Actually, I'd probably ask 'chocolate or rocky road?'" He grinned charmingly. "And all I said to him was good morning, of course."

Edgar, the third-year, shrugged and offered a smile that showed promise of stopping nearly as many hearts as Tom's in a few years. "For all _I_ knew it was 'Please tell me the rumors about your parents hatching a hydra aren't true.'"

Tom blinked. "The what?"

"Kidding."

"I'm sure I've mentioned this before," Tom said seriously to Moira, "but Gryffindors are _strange_."

"If Gryffindors are strange, then honorary Gryffindors are even stranger," she retorted with a serene smile. "Besides, you don't seem to mind us."

"A _very_ select few of you."

"Slytherin elitist," she accused teasingly.

"...Let's go."

Moira blinked -- his ripostes were usually more interesting than that -- but shrugged and started for the carriages down to Hogsmeade. They managed to get a carriage to themselves instead of having to share, with most of the school still milling around in the entrance hall waiting for friends to arrive. Only the third-years had been over-eager to get down to see Hogsmeade for the first time. They sat in the rocking carriage in silence for a few minutes before Tom finally remembered himself and said, "You look very nice today."

"Thanks, so do you." Moira studied him for a moment and then moved next to him. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Er, you, I mean."

She snorted. "Thank you so much. Seriously, Tom. It's obvious something is."

"Just...roommates being idiots again. Don't worry about it."

"I know the feeling -- sort of. You look more serious about it than usual. Are you sure you don't want to complain?"

"Why do you like me?" he asked suddenly. "I mean, you said your Housemates tease you about me. Is it just because I'm a Slytherin, or does anyone--Never mind."

"I like you because you're a lot of fun, brilliant, and very nice." One corner of Moira's mouth quirked up and she dipped her head slightly as she added, "And it certainly doesn't _hurt_ that you're handsome. Why? Don't tell me somebody suggested I shouldn't."

"No." Tom stared out the carriage window, brooding. They were almost to Hogsmeade. "Where does family come into it, for Gryffindors? I know the Weasleys have Gryffindors back to Merlin-knows-when."

"It... varies, I suppose," she said slowly. "I mean... some families are very determined for children to be in a particular House; others don't worry over it nearly so much. I suspect we might tend to be the ones in a given family to be nastier about grudges _between_ families than people in some of the other houses -- lions' pride and all that. It may not be a Sorting trait but sometimes I think it's over-encouraged."

Tom nodded thoughtfully, but as the carriage had just come to a halt, he waited until they'd clambered out of it and were walking down the street to reply. "My mum married a Muggle and a Gryffindor. I used to joke that I didn't think anyone in Slytherin thought there was a difference. Apparently they do. I've been..._congratulated_ for choosing someone of such a good family." Tom's voice and expression were sour.

Moira gave this several strides' worth of thought. "It probably tells you _something_ about me that I'm not as annoyed about that as you seem to be," she said thoughtfully. "But then, I decided fairly quickly that I was just going to laugh at the uncle-by-marriage who squawked at me the first two weeks of summer about how I couldn't be thinking seriously about Tom Riddle because 'He's a Slytherin! Moira, he's THE Slytherin!'"

Tom snorted. "Well that's just silly. THE Slytherin died a thousand years ago. I'm just his many-times-great-grandson." Tom went silent again. Eventually he added, "I didn't choose you because of your family. Or at least I don't _think_ I did."

"I don't think you did either, but I could hardly be offended if they were a secondary consideration -- we can't really avoid dealing with somebody's family if we want to see them outside the school year for a while yet." Moira paused to send a ball that was scattering little rainbows all over the street back over to the children who'd lost it with a well-aimed kick. "And no, I'm not being deliberately obtuse; I know what you mean. Snobbery's hardly unique to the pureblood families that run predominantly to Slytherins; there are mixed ones who have a few members determined to be insufferable about their status in the _Muggle_ world. There are people from predominantly Gryffindor families who wouldn't _dream_ of marrying a Slytherin -- including the uncle I mentioned. Some wizarding families deserve their reputations, and overall tend to keep them up, even if it's no guarantee about the individuals. Practically everybody at least _thinks_ about it at some point, even if Slytherin's traditionally the least open about marrying Muggles or their children."

"Not all Slytherins are opposed to marrying Muggles," Tom said quietly, looking off into the distance. "But apparently I'm supposed to just ignore that and marry a good little pureblood." He snorted and kicked at a patch of grass. "Your uncle thinks I'm THE Slytherin and nothing else; Slytherin snobs thinks I shouldn't even be considered his heir since I'm half-Muggle."

"I _said_ traditionally," Moira pointed out, "and I'd be quite as offended at being dumped _because_ I'm a pureblood as I would if I thought that was the main reason you liked me. Which would be silly anyway, as it doesn't narrow things down that far. And there's no such thing as half-Muggle, or Muggle-borns would by extension be fully Muggle and couldn't do magic, which is demonstrably ridiculous."

He cast her a sideways look through half-hooded eyes that would have sent half the girls at Hogwarts running to their journals to compose poems about brooding heroes. "Don't nitpick. You know what I meant."

Moira, even if she was used to looking at him without having to sigh from a distance by now, had a certain high color in her cheeks as she replied, "Of course I do. It's still a silly term, and I'm in the middle -- or rather, forging into the beginning, really -- of a paper on language manipulation." She grinned at him a bit sheepishly. "Sorry, though."

"...So am I. I shouldn't have snapped. This...isn't about all that anyway. It shouldn't even bother me." He shook his head and straightened his shoulders. "I believe you mentioned wanting ice cream?"

"Yes, but it's a little early for lunch...." Moira trailed off. "Not that that's a problem." They turned down the nearest street in the direction of the ice cream parlor. "But if it's not about roommates imputing ulterior motives to us, what _is_ it about?"

"It is, and it isn't," Tom clarified helpfully. He moved a little closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "It just...made me think a bit. About him. Not that it matters."

Moira put her arm around him in return, reaching up to his opposite shoulder, and took a moment to think about this. "Your father, you mean?"

"My biological one."

"As they appeared to be less than comfortable thoughts, I didn't think 'he' was likely to be Tavish Hagrid, no."

"Uncle Tavish has been my father since I was _three_. I don't even _remember_ the other one. We didn't even meet once."

"Has your mum told you much?"

"Bits and pieces. I never really asked. He was a Muggle, obviously. His family was apparently fairly well-off in the Muggle world. He was so disturbed at finding out he was married to a witch that he ran off and never spoke to her again. What more do I need?" Tom shrugged. "I suppose he's still alive...Well, assuming nothing strange happened. He could've married again, I guess." He laughed, but didn't sound very amused. "I could have more siblings out there somewhere. Wouldn't that be interesting?"

"You could probably find out, if you wanted to look."

"I'm sure I could. And do what? Stroll up and say, 'Hello, I'm your brother Tom, the one your father abandoned sixteen years ago. Oh, you've never heard of me? Fancy that. I thought my picture would be up on the mantle.'"

"Sorry. Research mode again." Her hand flexed gently on his shoulder.

"I don't know why I _should_ bother looking him up. He's the one who walked away from us. He has _nothing_ to do with who I am."

"Except half your blood. And, more important, maybe whatever it was your mother saw in him in the first place."

Tom stopped and pulled his arm away, looking at her angrily. "I am _nothing_ like him!"

Moira turned to face him. "You don't know that."

"What, you think I'm like someone who'd hate something he doesn't know anything about just because it's strange? Someone who'd run out on the person I married and my own _son_ just because I found out something about her I didn't like? _That's_ what you think of me?" Tom glared at her fiercely, then turned to walk away. "Get your bloody ice cream yourself."

"Come back here --" Moira's voice was sharp but little louder than Tom's, and Tom tended to hiss when he was angry instead of shouting. Otherwise they'd probably have a good deal more of an audience than his abrupt motions had garnered. She caught at his wrist and dug in her heels as he turned back for another glower. "No, that's not what I think of you," she said quietly. "Those are choices made, and they're not ones I'd expect of you."

"That's who he _is_, so don't compare me to him again!"

"That's what he's done -- some of it -- which is very much part of who he is, but also not even remotely hereditary." Moira took a step closer and looked up at him. "And quit yelling at me."

"I didn't yell."

"Hissing like that is the equivalent for you, but that wasn't the point."

Tom closed his eyes and visibly wrestled his temper back under control. He opened his eyes after a moment and said quietly, "I'm not like him. Don't say that again."

"You are absolutely nothing like anything you actually know of him." Moira tugged at his hand a little and, when he didn't resist, tucked herself back into his arm. "All I'm saying is that that isn't very much -- and I have trouble believing your mother _ever_ wanted a man who had no virtues at all."

"She was foolish," Tom said quietly. "She did much better with Uncle Tavish."

"Well, I can't argue with that part."

He hmphed, but pulled her closer and started walking again. "Good."

"He doesn't worry me," Moira told him with a glance up at his face. "If he worries you, though, then maybe you should ask about him." She smiled a little. "But for now, let's not let him ruin the ice cream."

Tom sighed. "You're right. Let's go." But as they walked towards the ice cream parlor, Tom's thoughts stayed dark.

*****

It was a fine day for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, with crisp air and a blue sky for the students to enjoy. Albus Dumbledore didn't find it precisely astonishing that one of his most outdoorsy students opted to stay on the grounds, but he did note it; Rubeus Hagrid tended to be genially sociable, and it was unusual for him to pass up an opportunity for easy inter-house mixing. All things considered, it had been almost inevitable to glance out the window and spot the boy on his way to the Forbidden Forest. With a faint sigh, Dumbledore turned his robes to a less conspicuous color and left his office. Time to see what the lad was visiting now.

As he walked, Dumbledore comforted himself with the thought that it was highly unlikely Rubeus could have dug up anything more dangerous and rare than _last_ year's creature. Though calling Sharessa a "creature" seemed rude now that he'd become acquainted with her, of course. Still, he rather doubted that even the redoubtable Forbidden Forest had anything quite like a thousand year old basilisk.

Despite what the students whispered amongst themselves, he didn't think there were _really_ werewolves there, at least not in the middle of the day when it was more than a week before the full moon. And even Rubeus would have some trouble concealing a dragon. Perhaps the lad was trying to meet the centaur herd that roamed the forest. Not a bad goal, but he was still a bit young for that. Perhaps in a few years....

Rubeus's woodcraft reflected the number of times he had ignored the meaning of the little word "forbidden." He was making no great effort at stealth, but he did walk confidently as if he knew where he was going, even as Dumbledore followed him deep into the forest where the trees contemplated their vast lives and muttered when creatures passed by or through.

"Aragog! There yeh are!" Rubeus exclaimed happily, coming to an abrupt halt and extending his arms. Dumbledore stopped hastily himself and stepped halfway behind a tree trunk, squinting as a leggy piece of shadow detached itself and started to approach the boy.

Then _it_ stopped, and to Dumbledore's astonishment it _spoke_ in a grating, clicking voice. "Hagrid has brought a stranger!"

"I what?" Rubeus exclaimed in astonishment, whirling around. "Get out of here, Aragog! Yeh'll get caught."

The creature moved again; Dumbledore, seeing he had been detected, stepped out and lifted his wand. "_Lumos!_" 

Rubeus had taken an abortive step toward him with an agonized expression, but Dumbledore's eyes were on the gleaming black ones of a waist-high, hairy spider as it scuttled quickly out of range and was lost to the darkness beneath the trees.

"Pr--Professor Dumbledore sir. I -- I didn't know yeh were there."

"It happens, Mr. Hagrid," Dumbledore said deliberately, returning his gaze to his student, "that I had already reached that conclusion."

Rubeus lowered his eyes to the forest floor. "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore drew a deep breath. "Rubeus, did I just see you speak with an acromantula?"

"...Only if my luck is as bad as I think it is."

"Rubeus...." Dumbledore closed his eyes, then reconsidered the wisdom of this given their location and opened them again. "You just met with an acromantula."

Rubeus gave in to what his brother always called a "lamentable lack of proper Slytherin cunning" and did what no Slytherin willingly did -- told the truth. "Yes, sir, I did. His name is Aragog, sir." No wonder he was a Gryffindor.

"Would you like to _explain_ this situation, Rubeus? Acromantulae are not exactly indigenous."

"Oh, no sir! I looked it up when I got his egg, and the next closest colony is -- er, that's not what yeh were asking about, is it?"

"Not...precisely." Dumbledore resisted a strong urge to bury his face in his hands. He really should be used to this type of thing from this particular student by now, but he still managed to be surprised. "To begin with, you raised this creature from an _egg_? Need I remind you that Acromantula eggs are Untradable?"

"I didn' trade it," Rubeus explained earnestly. "Somebody'd left it on a rubbish heap. He would've died if I'd just left him!"

"...Mr. Hagrid, there is generally a _reason_ things are made Untradable. Acromantulae are _dangerous_. A danger to you and your fellow students!"

"Aragog's not! He wouldn' hurt anybody. I always made sure he had plenty to eat so he wouldn' go hunting before I could explain what he ought and ought not to try. He's real smart, understands everything I tell him."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again and shook his head. "This is not the place for a discussion, Mr. Hagrid. There's a reason the forest is forbidden to students. Walk with me."

"Yes, sir." Rubeus obeyed, and conversation gave way to the quiet sounds of leaves underfoot as they started back toward the edge of the forest.

It might have looked comical -- the student walking with eyes downcast and slightly trembling lips as he awaited his fate, towering over his professor as they left the forest behind them and crossed the grounds to the school proper. But Dumbledore's face was serious and drawn, his eyes lacking their customary twinkle. "I think I should impress on you, Mr. Hagrid, the seriousness of this affair. Your brother's experience to the contrary, this school does not make a habit of rewarding the raising of dangerous beasts. You have knowingly flouted school rules again and again, and judging from this Aragog's size, over a period of some months at least." They stopped in front of the sleepy lion portrait that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "I need to consider this. Remain here."

He didn't look at Rubeus' face as he closed the door.

*****

He was NOT going to ask his mother.

Tom was very firm about that point. He'd toyed briefly with the idea of writing her and asking a few questions, but...well, that kind of conversation would really go better in person anyway. And...he didn't want Uncle Tavish to know he'd asked. But he wouldn't be seeing her until Christmas, and it was only the beginning of November. Tom thought he might go crazy in two months. Now that Moira had brought it up, he couldn't stop THINKING about it. What if he WAS like the _other_ Tom Riddle? He had his name, and as Tom had never seen too much of a resemblance between himself and his mother, he might very well have his looks as well. What else might he have?

Did he even want to KNOW?

No, he didn't want to know, he thought irritably. He didn't even want to _think_ about it. He just couldn't seem to help it. _Knowledge is power._ The quotation came easily to mind. A lesser known addendum: _And almost as reliable a foe to fear as love is._ Well, he certainly wasn't going to love the man. 

Even if his mother had once....

Tom winced. He desperately needed to talk this out. He tried writing it and promptly destroyed all the ink from the page; he thought about whispering it and shied away from the thought. He could hiss it out in Parseltongue with no danger of being overheard, but while speaking Parseltongue to himself wouldn't get him any stranger looks than talking to himself out loud in English would, they wouldn't be any _less_ strange, either. Besides, he needed someone to answer him....

His mind took one last turn around the solution and settled. Of course. The basilisk would listen, wouldn't she? According to her, that was one thing Salazar Slytherin had used her for, after all. Well, if it was good enough for his ancestor....

No one batted an eye anymore when Tom Riddle knocked on the door to the girls' toilet on the second floor and, when no one replied, walked right inside. This particular toilet had fallen out of common use since the Chamber's discovery anyway, except for the occasional girl who wanted to moon over Tom. He closed the Chamber entrance behind him and slid down the tunnel to land on rat skeletons. Despite everyone's interest in Sharessa, she'd insisted that only _Salazar's Heir_ could come down to the Chamber, not every random person who wanted to see her (Tom didn't mention that she didn't mind when _he_ brought other people down. He preferred it this way.)

So he walked into the Chamber itself and flopped down on the pillows he'd brought down after getting tired of the cold stone floor. "Sharessa? I need to talk to you."

"I listen well, Salazar's Heir." The soft hiss was accompanied by the quiet sound of scales on the floor and then fabric; one stretch of snake settled alongside him. "Are you well?"

"...Sort of. I just...wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't tell anyone else, and couldn't be overheard." Tom scratched her scales with his eyes closed. "Sharessa...what did Slytherin think about halfbloods?"

"He was...wary of those who were very close to their Muggle relatives, unless he was sure of those."

"What about those who _weren't_ close?" Tom burst out, the words spilling over each other in their eagerness to get out. "What if they didn't want anything to do with them? What if the Muggles didn't want anything to do with _them_?"

A soft hiss of laughter. "Then he would watch a little to see that they were not so angry with the Muggles as to do anything foolish. Surely you are not worried that he would not have approved of you, Salazar's Heir?"

"I'm not _angry_ with the Muggles. I just don't want anything to do with them. With _him_." Tom sighed and scratched harder. "I was talking to Moira yesterday about...my biological father. He was a Muggle who didn't want anything to do with Mum after he found out she was a witch. And I...I don't want to be _like_ him."

"Well, blood _iss_ important, Salazar's Heir. You must be like him in some ways, even if he only marked your looks, maybe." She moved a coil to drape over him, not too heavily. "There must have been something appealing about him, for Salazar's Heir to mate with a Muggle."

"Salazar's _other_ Heir, you mean?" Tom said wryly, leaning his head against the coil. "It's going to get confusing if you start calling me and Mum the same thing. Sharessa, I don't WANT him to have marked me! In any way. He didn't want anything to DO with me. He's never even SEEN me! Why should I want to be like him?"

"What does wanting matter? I do not know if my egg was from two other basilisks or from chickens, and if it was the latter then my father's voice would have killed me."

Tom shook his head a bit. "It's really strange even thinking about you being small enough to _come_ from an egg, much less a chicken's egg." He sighed softly. "You don't look like your father, if that's what it was."

"Perhaps Salazar would find it strange to think of me as large as a tree," Sharessa suggested. "And no, I do not. But if I were male I would have his crest, whatever he was."

Tom sighed and leaned more fully against the giant serpent. "It's silly. I don't even know what I'm _upset_ about. It's just some of my friends were...congratulating me, about following Mum's footsteps with her _second_ marriage instead of her first." He smiled wryly and added, "And it's a _little_ strange that everyone has us married off and ready to have kids already. Not that I'm entirely opposed to the idea."

"If you found it appalling, you would need to seek another female," the basilisk told him.

"I don't find it _appalling_!" Tom said hurriedly. "I'm just still young."

"You already said you did not. And yes, you are quite young, and have some time. Moira seems as if she would make a good mate for you, though."

"You've mentioned that before." Frequently, Tom recalled with a bit of a blush. The basilisk had done everything to encourage the union short of putting a bed in the Chamber! Tom was glad for the support but would rather do his courting himself, thank you very much. "Anyway, my _point_ was that they were all very pleased that I'd chosen a pureblood, even if she had to be a Gryffindor, instead of marrying a Muggle like my mother did." Tom sighed and rested his forehead against her cool scales. "Except that Muggle was my _father_."

"I am sure that if you _wanted_ a Muggle you would pick a nice one. I still like Moira."

"I like Moira too. That's not the _point_!"

"What is? I do not think your father is endangering the school. You certainly are not."

"I didn't think he was. I just--I don't _know_! I...I think I want to know more about him, but part of me _doesn't_ and another part just isn't sure if it will accomplish anything. And...I don't want to hurt Mum. Or Uncle Tavish."

Sharessa hissed softly to herself. "I think that it would be good for you to know. But I nearly always think that it is better to know. Salazar used to say that I should have been an eagle, or maybe had a tree."

"What if I don't like what I find out?" Tom asked softly. "I--I don't even _think_ about him most of the time. I can't hate him, because I don't know enough. What if I do? Or what if _he_ hates _me_?" _Or even worse,_ Tom left unspoken, _what if I **like** him?_

"Then...it will hurt, Salazar's Heir. But whatever you think of one another it will not take away the family you have now."

"...What if Uncle Tavish thinks I don't want him as my father anymore if I start looking for...Tom?"

"I think that your Uncle Tavish would know better. If it worries you, then tell him you do, just to be sure."

"_That'll_ be a fun conversation."

"I think that he will understand."

Tom sighed. "You were _supposed_ to tell me it was okay not to find out anything about him and not to think about it again." He laid his head down against her.

"Well, then you should have said so to begin with," Sharessa pointed out reasonably, "but I suspect you would still have thought about it."

Another sigh. "I know."

"It is your choice, Salazar's Heir. I simply think you will feel more settled if you know."

"You're probably right, but I don't have to _like_ it," Tom grumbled.

"You may grumble to me. I don't mind."

"Thanks." Tom wrapped his arms as far around Sharessa's coils as he could and squeezed hard. "I'm glad I've got you here."

*****

Rubeus managed to stand stoically at Dumbledore's door for what he felt what a heroic seven seconds before thudding his head against the wall. "I'm dead."

"You seem awfully solid for that."

Rubeus lifted his head enough to glare at the lion curled up in the picture frame. "None o' that, Aloysius. I'm in serious trouble here!"

"Have a nap," Aloysius advised, stretching his paws out in front of him and flexing the claws rhythmically. "Nothing's so bad a nap can't cure."

Rubeus looked deeply pained. "You sound like one of Tom's snakes."

"Snakes and lions aren't as different as people like to think." Aloysius yawned, the tip of his tongue almost touching his nose, then settled down with his head resting on his paws. "What's wrong, then?"

"I think I'm about to be expelled," Rubeus said glumly, stepping away from the door only to slide down with his back against the wall.

"Oh. _That_ doesn't sound very good at all."

Rubeus decided the lion had a vast talent for understatement. "Yeh think?"

"Quite often, but I don't share it with just _anyone_." Aloysius didn't sound ruffled at all.

Well, naturally not. _He_ didn't have anything to worry about. "I couldn' just have _left_ him, though," Rubeus added in a faintly pleading tone.

"This the 'dangerous beast' Albus was going on about?"

"Yes. But he's _not_! He's real well behaved."

"He sounds better than you lot of rampaging students. Always charging up and down the corridors, never letting a body get a minute's rest. Sounds like someone we should keep around."

"He's not even livin' in the school anymore." Rubeus brushed a few leaves off his robes. "But he didn' hurt a thing while he _was_ here."

"Fear not, young Hagrid. Albus is very fair. He'll give you a chance to explain."

Rubeus drooped. "I did break the rules. He's right about that much. But I really was careful, honest!"

"Albus wasn't above breaking a few rules to get things done in his younger days," Aloysius confided with a rumbling laugh. "He might understand, if you give him your reasons."

A quick look up. "Do yeh really think he might? I mean -- he's always been great -- but he looked awful serious."

"He WAS serious -- don't see him without a smile often -- but that doesn't mean it can't be mended."

Rubeus let out a windy sigh. "I hope you're right." He brightened just a little. "But at least Aragog's all right...."

"What IS Aragog?"

"He's an acromantula."

Aloysius' head shot up off his paws and he looked at Rubeus in wide-eyed surprise. "There was an Acromantula in the _castle_?"

"Most of last year. I let him out in the forest over the summer, since I wouldn' be able to feed him."

"Oh my! Truly we have the makings of a first-class animal trainer here."

"Well, I don' know if anybody'd train _me_ for it if I get expelled before I even get to OWLs, except I reckon Dad would let me help with the preserve still. He'd be awful disappointed though." Rubeus looked up hopefully. "Do yeh think so, though? It's what I'd really like to be...."

"I don't know of any full-grown wizards in this day and age who can train acromantulae, though I admit I don't get out much. They were bred as guards, but that project was abandoned, as I recall."

"I read up about that! Tom found me some books on it. I'm not quite sure why it was so much trouble, except I did get the idea maybe they didn' expect the Acromantulae to be as smart as they were."

"Smart is good. Makes for easier training, as long as you can make them see a benefit. Are you going to be training acromantulae, then?"

"Well, there's only Aragog right now. He wasn' hard to convince. I suppose they're all some different, o' course."

"Something to remember for the career interviews next year, I suppose."

"If I get to them." But Professor Dumbledore wouldn't _really_ want to have him expelled, would he? Not once he explained how Aragog knew better than to hurt anybody or even their pets? Sharessa had decided to trust him about it....

Dumbledore liked Sharessa. Maybe he'd listen to her opinion. If he gave Rubeus the chance to explain. Maybe he was in there talking to Dad and Aunt Mary right now, telling them to come pick him up right now. Rubeus wondered if he'd at least be given the chance to say goodbye to his friends...

"You'll get to them. Here comes Albus. Just explain," Aloysius said comfortingly as he swung his portrait forward.

Rubeus swallowed hard and scrambled to his feet as Dumbledore appeared. "Mr. Hagrid." His face was still deathly serious. "Come inside."

"Yes, sir." Rubeus stepped forward past the portrait as Dumbledore moved back to let him in.

The door thudded shut.

*****


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended._

Authors' note: Sixth in the Stepbrothers AU series, takes place during and after Tom's sixth year and Rubeus's fourth.

**Called to Account  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Chapter 2**

*****

"I'm not going to expel you."

Rubeus' knees felt weak, resulting in his nearly collapsing into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Thank yeh, sir! Thank yeh."

"I was going to ask you to sit down," Dumbledore added, "but that would seem to be unnecessary." He removed his glasses and shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before replacing the spectacles and folding his hands on the desk before him. "I think that on the whole, since you have _somehow_ managed to avoid any of the most obviously alarming possible consequences, expulsion would be too severe. I still cannot ignore the situation. Rubeus... what were you _thinking_? Did you know you had an Acromantula egg before it hatched?"

"...Yessir. Not when I first picked it up, but I looked it up in my Care of Magical Creatures book. But I couldn't jus' LEAVE him there, sir! He would've died!"

"Perhaps we should begin at the beginning. Will you give me the full story at once, or shall I ask every detail?"

"I was in the pet shop in Hogsmeade last year, durin' one of the free weekends. I heard a man tryin' ter sell an egg, but the shopkeeper turned 'im down. The man said he had ter get rid of it somehow an'....well, I saw him leave it on a trash pile. It would've died if I jus' left it there! So I...picked it up."

"Within the letter of the law, I see, up to that point -- and you never do seem to have been concerned about the strictures regarding what type of pets are permitted at Hogwarts. You then, at some point, determined that it was an acromantula based on some book on the topic -- I'm fairly certain they aren't covered in the current course text. Did you consider, at that point or before, that the creature might be a danger? How familiar are you with the previous attempts to breed acromantulae?"

"I read all about 'em!" Rubeus protested, sounding stung. "I wouldn't try ter raise something not knowin' about it. Dad taught me _that_ much. People are afraid of acromantulae because they're so smart, yeh see. I knew I could teach it not ter hurt anybody. And he _hasn't_."

"It's not simply intelligence. They are entirely capable of hunting human beings -- or larger prey -- and have no compunctions about doing so. There are centaurs in the forest who might not be particularly pleased at his presence; I'm surprised they haven't protested."

"But Bane's the one who helped me find a good lair for him, sir!"

Dumbledore blinked. "That is, ah, impressive. I wasn't aware you'd met."

"Jus' a few times. He doesn' like dealing with humans that much, but he likes how I treat the animals. An' he said he'd rather know where Aragog _is_ instead of him turnin' up in the middle of his herd's territory."

"An understandable perspective on it, I suppose. Even so -- and even knowing _now_ that your... Aragog doesn't seem to have hurt anyone... you do understand that you were putting your fellow students at risk? Suppose he had chosen to hunt outside the forest?"

"He knew he weren't supposed to, sir. He promised he'd never hunt people. He doesn't even touch the students' pets, sir!"

"He promised?"

"Yes, sir. I wouldn't have let him hurt anyone, honest."

"What exactly were you going to do if he didn't prove as cooperative as you hoped?"

"Send him ter my dad to find a home for him where there weren't anyone for him ter hurt," Rubeus answered promptly. "He was jus' a little thing when he hatched. It wouldn't have been hard."

"I think it possible that even your parents might have some difficulty finding a suitable alternate habitat for an acromantula, but I suppose it _is_ a reasonable contingency plan." Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Do they know about him?"

"...Not exactly, sir."

"Not exactly."

Rubeus sighed gustily. "They talked once about me raising one, but it were jus' a joke. They don't know about Aragog."

"They will be informed. I advise you to do so before the official letter is drafted."

Rubeus gulped. "Yes, sir."

"Obviously, I can offer no such advice regarding Headmaster Dippet."

"H-Headmaster Dippet?" Rubeus stammered. "B-but sir, you KNOW what he thinks about int'restin' creatures! He won't even give Aragog a chance! He'll have people out ter KILL him before yeh can blink!"

"Rubeus, this is _not_ something I can keep from him."

"But -- sir, Aragog ain't never hurt no one! An' he's in the Forest now, away from everybody. No one's in any danger but him!"

"I can present the point that there have been no injuries or losses attributable to him, but --" Dumbledore broke off. "'Now'?"

"Well, yes, sir. You saw him there."

"Where was he _before_?"

"In his cupboard, of course. He never left there, sir, just like he promised. Never hurt anybody, not even a toad!"

"His... cupboard."

"Yes, sir. In the old Potions workroom."

"You had this creature inside the school." Dumbledore shut his eyes again and sighed. "This is not going to help your case."

"But he never hurt anybody! An' he was too little ter hunt on his own. I had ter keep him where I could feed him."

"Let me rephrase. It may support the argument that Aragog is not a threat, but it does make your offences considerably more serious."

"There's no law against _having_ an acromantula, sir. I checked."

"You are not, however, supposed to have one _here_."

"...They're not exactly forbidden, sir."

"The pets students _are_ permitted to have are listed, and the more common exceptions are well established. We have also been relatively lenient regarding most of your more unusual choices. Whatever the practice may have been in the Founders' day," Dumbledore said drily, "the school is not at present considered a suitable location for raising extremely dangerous creatures, particularly ones that could readily make a meal of a student if their... education didn't go quite as planned."

"But he was small enough when I started that he _couldn't_ have eaten anyone!"

"Possibly, although I understand they have been known to take surprisingly large prey, at least as adults. He could still have been dangerous."

"He were jus' a baby!"

"I understand that, Rubeus, but some creatures can be extremely dangerous even from birth -- or hatching. I realize you have experience in handling some of them, but most of the other students do not -- and I am sure you are aware that intelligence gives the option of coming to a different conclusion from what one's instructors might wish." A long sigh. "As I said, since there has been no actual harm, you will not be expelled. You _will_, however, be punished, and I cannot make promises at this time as to Aragog's fate."

"Sir, I'll take any punishment yeh want ter give me, but PLEASE don't kill Aragog!"

"What happens to Aragog may be out of my hands. If, however, I have been able to meet him for myself before any further official discussions, I may be better able to vouch for his future intentions."

"I'll introduce yeh!" Rubeus promised desperately. "Yeh can meet him and decide for yourself, jus' like with Sharessa."

"I shall do that." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Beforehand, however, I suppose I should inquire whether he's likely to come looking out of concern for you?"

"Oh no, sir. He knows better than ter leave the Forest. No matter what. I've told him."

"Well, that's something. Please return to your dormitory for the moment. I'll notify you when I am prepared to visit Aragog. I recommend that in the meantime you begin composing your letter to your parents."

Rubeus sighed. "Yes, sir." He rose slowly to his feet. At least he wasn't going to be expelled. That was a bright side, surely. And he'd managed not to mention that Tom knew about Aragog. That was probably against prefect rules, and he'd surely be ruled out for Head Boy then. But...Rubeus suddenly wished very badly to talk to his brother. Dumbledore's disappointed gaze was more than he could bear. "I'm sorry, sir. Really, I am."

"Naturally." Dumbledore's voice was gentle, if a little weary. "I will speak with you later."

"Yes, sir." He walked out with his head hung low, not even stopping to speak to Aloysius on his way out. It occurred to him that was the first time he'd ever visited Professor Dumbledore without being offered a sweet.

...Somehow that depressed him most of all.

*****

Tom wasn't used to having anyone waiting for him when he emerged from the Chamber these days -- though he would never be surprised at Dumbledore again -- but as he emerged from the tunnel into the girls' toilet, a quiet voice said, "Hullo, Tom."

Sharessa slithered out of the tunnel enough to nudge Rubeus affectionately and hiss hello. Tom blinked at him. "Rubeus. Something wrong? You look terrible."

Rubeus swallowed. "Professor Dumbledore found out about Aragog."

Tom buried his face in his hands. "This day just keeps getting better. _How_?"

"He caught me visitin' him in the forest while everybody was at Hogsmeade. He doesn' know you knew," Rubeus added hastily. "But... well... he told Headmaster Dippet...."

For a moment, Tom could only sit there in stunned silence. Dumbledore was bad enough, but _Dippet_? "I -- I'll talk to him for you. I know you were breaking some rules, but you're _not_ getting expelled over this, I promise. I'll take some of the blame myself; I never should've encouraged you."

"No, no, Tom, don' -- don' say anythin' -- I'm not worried about _me_. Professor Dumbledore already -- well, I'm in a lot o' trouble, but not expelled. Only," he swallowed hard, "Headmaster Dippet wanted to get Aragog hunted out an' killed, but he finally said he could stay -- if he'd come meet Sharessa and could convince _her_ he's all right."

"He said _what_? No, I heard you the first time," Tom added hastily when Rubeus opened his mouth to explain again. This was unbelievable. "Well, they _obviously_ don't know I'm involved. Why Sharessa, though?"

"He said it was because she was a guardian of the school. I think it's maybe because he knows Aragog'd be scared of her."

Tom's response was an eloquent groan. "And she isn't exactly fond of _him_, but...well, I think I can convince her. This has got to be the _oddest_ test Dippet's come up with."

"She already said once she'd put up with him so long's he didn' hurt anybody, right? And he _hasn't_!" Rubeus glanced worriedly in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. "I just hope I can get _him_ to come and see _her_ without runnin' away."

Tom wisely didn't voice the thought that perhaps that would be for the best. "If it's that or being hunted out and killed, I think he'll agree."

"I could alwaysss go into the foressst to sssearch," Sharessa observed with a hint of amusement. "Perhapsss Rubeus could tell the spider _that_ if he doessn't wissh to cooperate."

Tom laughed and quickly translated. Rubeus snorted. "I'll tell him. I'll do ANYTHING if it means he doesn't get hunted down like -- like some kind o' _animal_!"

"I realize he's a very smart one," Tom said gently, "but he _is_ an animal. So's Sharessa. But, well, we'll see about getting him to her. Uh, where?"

"Edge o' the forest. Dumbledore pointed out how the students would be a lot more used ter Sharessa comin' and goin' than ter seein' an acromantula."

"Good point."

"I'm sorry, Tom. I didn' mean for any o' this ter happen."

"Rubeus," Tom said in a sort of affectionate exasperation, "I don't think meeting Aragog is going to be nearly as hard for me or Sharessa as the other way around."

Rubeus sighed shakily. "I know. Aragog won't even _talk_ about her. I don' know how ter convince him..."

"Well... how badly have you infected him with Gryffindor-hood?"

"Infected?" There was just a hint of the usual House pride in Rubeus' dejected voice. "It's not an infection. It's the proper way o' things."

"How much good would it do to suggest he ought to be brave or could brag about having faced a basilisk afterward?"

Rubeus managed a strained chuckle. "He might go fer it, at that. Well, I guess I'd better go find him. He's probably worried."

"_He's_ worried! All right, should we go out too, or are we doing this later on?"

"Yeh'd best find Professor Dumbledore first. He an' Dippet are waiting for yeh in the Headmaster's office." Rubeus hesitated, then said soberly, "An' Tom, DON'T say anything about knowing beforehand. Whatever punishment I get, I deserve ter get. Don't go ruinin' yer chances for Head Boy, all right?"

"If you deserve it, I probably do too," Tom pointed out, "but I suppose it might just complicate things. We'd better warn Moira not to say anything, actually."

"I don' think Professor Dumbledore would think about askin' her, but I'll mention it when I see her. Now I'd better find Aragog before Dippet changes his mind and sends out hunters after all."

"I'm just afraid she'd volunteer the information! Right, go on then. I'll go tell them you found me."

"Right." Rubeus sighed. "Dad and Aunt Mary are goin' ter kill me, right?"

Tom considered this before saying, "Probably only a little bit."

The meeting with Dippet and Dumbledore went just as Tom thought, though Dippet was babbling a lot and seemed to be trying to convince Dumbledore to assess harsher punishment against Rubeus. He kept asking Tom for confirmation, which the young wizard restricted to noncommital noises and nods until he finally had to pin a slightly-reproachful look on the Headmaster and murmur, "Really, sir, he IS my brother."

Dippet blinked. "Oh. Yes. Quite right, of course. Slips my mind sometimes. You're, ah, not exactly very alike. We'd never have such a problem from you, eh, my boy?"

Tom met his gaze and replied evenly, "Well, sir, you weren't much happier when you found out about Sharessa. Who is waiting for us, by the way, if you want to get this started."

"Quite right, quite right." Dippet rubbed his hands together. "Well, lead on, Riddle."

They left the castle to convene at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and waited for Rubeus and Aragog to appear.

And they waited.

"I think the sspider is a bit ssshy," Sharessa observed idly.

Tom glanced at her and hissed back, "Do you think we'll need to go look for them?"

"I can ssmell them both from here."

"So they're not far?"

"No. But they both ssmell afraid. I sstill do not like Rubeus asssociating with acromantulae, Salazar's Heir. They are not to be trussted."

"Some say that about serpents," Tom pointed out. "I'll admit Aragog makes me nervous sometimes, but I think he'll do what Rubeus asks. Rubeus has been pretty clear that there's more in it for him if he behaves himself."

"Is there a problem, Riddle?" Dippet asked worriedly. "I _knew_ Sharessa wouldn't trust an acromantula!"

"We were just talking, Headmaster. She says she can smell that Rubeus and Aragog are on their way."

"Aragog is the...creature's name?"

"That's what Rubeus calls him, sir."

"I think --" But Tom never found out what Dippet was thinking, as Sharessa reared up suddenly.

"Here they are."

Tom translated the hiss and watched, wincing a little, as Aragog stopped in his tracks immediately on catching sight of the basilisk. Rubeus tried coaxing him along; Aragog balked further and crouched down. "Aragog, come on, yeh got ter..."

"_No._"

"Just come up and tell the truth. It'll be fine. She won' do yeh any harm unless she thinks you'll hurt the school!"

"I will not walk closer." There was a pause, filled with a soft groan from Rubeus, and then Tom wondered if he was imagining that the next clicking words sounded ever so faintly embarrassed. "I do not think I _can_ walk closer."

"Well then." Rubeus looked down at the giant spider for a moment, then squared his shoulders. "Well, then, I'll carry yeh."

And he crouched down and got a good grip on the body, bundling several gangly legs carefully together while a few others twitched with an odd sort of delicacy to keep Aragog's feet and their few venomous hairs away from Rubeus's body.

Dippet stared at the...rather unusual sight of one of his students manhandling a giant spider. "What...on EARTH are you doing, Hagrid?"

Rubeus' chin lifted defiantly. "Bringin' Aragog ter Sharessa, jus' like yeh asked."

Sharessa let out a long staccato hiss of laughter. "If he putss the acromantula down in front of me and it doessn't run, I sshall certainly be convinced it can overcome instinct more than any other spider-kind I have known...."

"It's all right, Aragog," Rubeus said soothingly. "See, Sharessa won't hurt yeh as long as yeh're not going ter hurt the school. An' yeh won't." Rubeus managed to haul the acromantula a few more feet to just in front of Tom and Sharessa, then hoped for the best and set him down, keeping one hand soothingly on Aragog's body.

Aragog stood there in silence and quivered, which might have been a triumph of intellect and will over magical instinct but didn't promise much in the way of Aragog speaking up on his own behalf.

"Well," Sharessa hissed after a long moment, "now what?"

"Now you give him your approval, because you know he won't hurt any students. Or any of the professors either," Tom prompted helpfully. Rubeus just stared at her pleadingly.

Sharessa hissed and said reluctantly, "But I don't _know_. How can I tell the Headmaster that?"

"Well, you _do_ know that _he_ knows that on top of displeasing Rubeus -- whom he really does like a lot -- he'd be in a lot of trouble if he did hurt anybody, whereas as long as he only hunts what he ought to, he can have a nice den in the kind of place he likes and Rubeus will make sure he stays fed and well."

"There iss that." Sharessa flicked her tongue out, making Aragog scuttle back a little nervously.

Aragog was shaking so badly he could barely be understood, but he managed to click out, "I won't harm any friends of Hagrid."

"Ask him to define that, pleassse," Sharessa requested of Tom.

"Could you be a little more specific about who you consider Rubeus' friends?" Tom asked politely.

Aragog clicked his mandibles in confusion. "Friend of Hagrid said _all_ humans are friends of Hagrid. And Hagrid said centaurs also."

"Well, Sharessa wanted to hear it from you."

Sharessa was laughing. "That would have been you, I take it, Salazar's Heir? Nicely done. I suppose if there are ever any finer distinctions to be made they can be covered at the time."

"Then you agree?" Tom hissed back happily, hoping they didn't have to talk to Aragog anymore and reveal just who that "friend of Hagrid" was. "I can tell the Headmaster you approve?"

"I think you may. You might also tell Aragog that he need not fear me so long as he too guards Hogwarts, but if he does or deliberately allows harm, I will eat him."

"...Right." Tom blinked at scratched Sharessa's scales a bit as he reported back to the waiting professors, "Sharessa agrees that Aragog is under control if he can face _her_, and she thinks it's safe for him to stay here. She _also_ said that if he ever causes harm to the school, she'll eat him." Aragog's mandibles began chattering audibly at this. "So I really don't think we have to worry."

"She won' go looking for excuses, Aragog," Rubeus reassured the acromantula in an undertone. "Yeh just do what yeh been doing and you'll be just fine." He looked up. "Thanks, Sharessa!"

"I suppose that's true," Dippet said slowly. "If the instinct to flee a basilisk doesn't... run away with him, I suppose that the hunting instinct is no more likely to do so."

"Can I go now, Hagrid?" Aragog chittered pitifully. "Please?"

"Could he?" Rubeus looked hopefully up at the professors. "He's proved he can fight it, but it's hard the whole time, and Sharessa agrees with me he'll behave...."

"Never thought I'd live to see the day an acromantula asked _permission_ to leave," Dippet muttered.

"Which I think proves Mr. Hagrid's claim as much as Sharessa's endorsement," Dumbledore spoke up smoothly.

Dippet sighed. "It can go." In an undertone he added, "Makes me nervous, the great ruddy beast."

Aragog wasted no time in turning himself about and heading deeper into the forest at top speed.

"Well...if that's settled, maybe I should take Sharessa back to the Chamber now?" Tom suggested diffidently. "Even if the students are more accustomed to seeing her than acromantulae, she can still be surprising."

Sharessa tossed her head in affront and flicked out her tongue. "Really, Salazar's Heir. You suggest I would be harmful to the students."

"Never," he hissed back with a grin. "They'd just be so surprised to see how beautiful you are in full daylight that they might trip over their own feet."

"Flatterer," she hissed back, but he thought she was smiling. "Let us go. Though I might like to come out and lie in the sun some morning."

"Yes, yes, I believe we're done here. Thank you, Riddle, Sharessa."

Tom bowed slightly, flicked a reassuring look at his brother, and walked off with his hand resting on Sharessa's neck.

Rubeus swallowed hard when the dual gazes of his professors returned to him. "I...Thank yeh for sparin' Aragog, Headmaster. I swear, he won't be any trouble at all."

"I certainly _hope_ not," Dippet said. "I suppose we may as well all go in."

Rubeus hung his head, though that still placed his gaze above the professors' heads. "Yes, sir."

...He wondered what his punishment from Dumbledore would be. But at least Aragog would be all right. That made it worth it.

Although maybe Dumbledore's punishment was the _least_ of his worries. He still had to write his parents.

*****

"I'm starting to think you're avoiding me."

Moira flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled up at Tom archly. "Avoiding _you_? Out of everyone here, _I_ am not the one spending most of my free time with historians."

Tom grimaced and slid into the seat next to her, dislodging a small stack of library books to touch her hand gently. "I thought their interest would die down eventually. If I wasn't getting extra credit for this..." He blew out a sigh. "But any time I DO have free lately, you've been busy."

"And vice versa, apparently." Moira closed her ink-bottle. "I've missed you. I briefly considered appealing to Sharessa, as she seems to approve, but I wasn't sure how that would work."

"She DOES approve of you." A bit TOO much sometimes, but he wasn't going to say that. "She _does_ help sometimes. When I start falling behind, she'll put her, er, coil down and refuse to answer any questions for a while until I have some time off. I don't know what I'd do sometimes without her."

"Well, without her the historians wouldn't be swarming," Moira pointed out with a grin, "but I imagine she's very effective. Someone would have to be _very_ passionate about history to try to cross a stubborn and protective basilisk."

"And very stupid. But I don't suppose you have enough time _now_ for me to entice you out of the library? Unless you want to quiz me about bowler hats again, of course." 

She glanced at her array of books. "Oh, I think the hats can wait for another day. And so can these."

"I was hoping you'd say that." He grinned at her as he helped her gather up the books. "What are you working on, anyway? I haven't seen anyone with this many books at once since the last time I checked in on Rubeus."

This was not a comment on his brother's growing interest in his studies, unfortunately. Knowing exactly what the very active student would hate most, Professor Dumbledore had assigned Rubeus to writing scores of essays as part of his punishment for breeding Aragog. Rubeus rarely left the library anymore if not for class. Tom sincerely hoped the punishment would ease off slightly after the holidays. He _never_ saw his brother anymore!

Moira tapped one of the books, rolling her eyes slightly; Tom angled his head and discovered that the title was _What Muggles Say about Merlin_. "That's my topic. This time I was lucky, too." She patted a varied stack before sliding them into her bag with great care. "_These_ are actual Muggle books about him -- well, most of them say they're about Arthur, but still." 

Tom's mouth quirked. "You asked Muggle-born classmates this time?" 

"Yes, and my parents sent Gwenhyvar so they could use her to write home and ask for them. She's bigger than most of the school owls."

"Your research methods are improving. I can't say my Slytherin side _entirely_ approves of this...Of course, we ARE still _vastly_ ahead of Gryffindor in House points, so maybe I should just give you your chance to catch up."

She made a face at him. "We'll get you yet."

"I would say 'good luck', but that would be an outright lie, so..." He carried most of the books for her as they left the library, keeping their voices low still until they reached the corridors. Tom was all too aware that the Gryffindors were so far behind because of all the points Rubeus had lost over Aragog...and Slytherin in all rights should have lost some of those for _Tom's_ involvement. 

But he was hardly going to say anything if nobody knew!

Leona appeared less than two minutes after they emerged from the library and rubbed against their legs, shedding enough to bestow tawny-golden accents on Tom's robes from the knees down. Moira laughed. "I think you're being claimed again, Tom."

He let out a long-suffering sigh, but still bent down to pick up the miniature lion and scratch behind its ears. "Do you have any idea how much I get teased showing up with lion hair on my robes? She even managed to get into Slytherin dorms once! I think she CAN walk through walls."

Leona purred loudly at this.

Moira tapped her lips with a forefinger. "Well," she said, "didn't you mention something about Sharessa being able to move through the pipes once...?"

"I'm _still_ not sure how a serpent the size of a tree manages that, but yes, she does. I think she'd tell me if Leona was following her, though."

"You'd think her paws might be wet, too." Moira inspected a paw. "Oh well."

"And we'd have cat hair coming out all the taps," Tom added solemnly.

"She doesn't shed _that_ much." A pause. "Usually. Well, I should probably stop off to leave my books, and then where shall we go?"

Tom gave this due consideration. It was getting cold enough that the castle was more occupied during the day than in better weather, and he really didn't want to share her attention with anyone. So he smiled charmingly and suggested, "Aragog's room?" Rubeus had put Aragog's cupboard there because no one used it, and Rubeus himself was unlikely to be showing up any time soon.

Moira winced, but after a moment she said, "That would do, wouldn't it?"

"Well, it IS empty now. We can go somewhere else if you prefer."

"It would almost seem strange without him there," she said in a low voice. "I'm not sure where else to suggest, though."

"Meet you there in ten minutes, then?"

"I will. Don't leave if I'm late."

"I won't, but do you think you'll be _very_ late?"

"Not likely. It might be a few minutes if someone asks about the project, though."

"Not likely. It might be a few minutes if anyone who's helping asks about the project, though."

"I'll wait, then, but _don't_ encourage them!" He squeezed her hands and passed the rest of her books back to her.

Tom sighed and strolled off, trying to look casual instead of antsy as he drifted towards the appointed meeting place. He stopped a few times to exchange some words of greeting with classmates, and once to stop a first-year from running in the hallway. He still reached the old Potions workroom entirely too early and settled in for a long wait.

To his surprise, Moira was not only on time but rushed in looking as if she might be about to laugh, plopped down beside him, and slipped something small and rubbery down the back of his neck.

He yelped and jumped up, trying to fish out (or shake out) whatever it was. "Hey!"

Moira giggled helplessly as he managed to extract a black rubber spider. "S-sorry. Xavier's been transfiguring them from bits of fluff. I left Leona playing with one, and I was surprised they seemed to be cheering Rubeus up...."

"Weasley's been making them?" Tom examined the spider closely. "Not bad work. I suppose that pathetic cat of his runs scared from them."

"Turtle's hunting skills have improved dramatically," Moira replied, straight-faced. "I don't think he likes the taste, though."

"The trick, I believe, is to not actually _eat_ them." Tom shrugged and tossed the spider aside. "I'm glad they're cheering up Rubeus, at least. He needs it." Tom snorted. "Probably dreaming of hatching lots of baby acromantulae."

"Er... Aragog _is_ the only one just now, right?"

"I certainly _hope_ so!" he replied fervently. "At least the only one I know about. But I wouldn't put it past him to decide Aragog needs a family. Hopefully he's learned his lesson now."

"I can't tell for sure. You know what Professor Dumbledore's making him write, I suppose?"

"Essays on all the hazard ratings, Untradable classes, and associated regulations, isn't it?"

"Mostly. Historical encounters and reasoning, too. The last essay I peeked at was about the original acromantula training efforts."

"That Dumbledore knows what he's about, that's for sure." There was just a hint of quiet respect in Tom's voice for the Gryffindor professor. "Assign him all the chores or even beatings you like and he wouldn't bat an eye. He _likes_ the sort of thing they usually assign. But make him sit and _write_?" He chuckled softly. "Torture."

"Most of the time, yes. Rubeus was waxing very enthusiastic this time, however, about where they went wrong and how to fix it."

"...I know my brother well enough to know that's NOT a good sign. I just hope I can keep him from launching a training program until he's out of school."

"Look on the bright side. He does have to turn it in."

"There's enough Slytherin in him for that not to stop him."

"Yes, hiding strange creatures in the depths of the castle _does_ seem to be a Slytherin trait, doesn't it?"

Tom grinned widely. "I _told_ him that stupid Hat made a mistake."

"You were quite vehement about it, too."

"Yes, well...I was _right_."

"Mmm... we're still claiming him, sorry." She glanced up at him slyly. "Anyway, if he'd been in Slytherin he might not have introduced _us_."

"Which is the only reason I've forgiven him." Tom returned the smile and leaned over to kiss her.

He broke off, though, sooner than he would've liked, looking away a bit uncertainly. "By the way...Mum said if you'd like to come visit for a bit over Christmas, she'd love to meet you."

"Oh!" Moira's eyes widened slightly; then she turned pink and beamed. "I _would_ like that. I'll have to ask, of course, but I'm sure I'll be allowed." A shy smile. "Might end up asking you over for a bit too, if...."

"I'd love to meet your family." The words came out with a slight squeak. He swallowed and managed a smile as he added, "As long as you promise to protect me from your crazy uncle."

Her mouth twitched. "I promise."

"I don't think there's anyone I need to protect you from in return. Mum and Uncle Tavish were thrilled." His mouth hitched up at one corner. "Of course, that _might_ be because I wrote when they were still furious over Rubeus' letter home, so they were just happy I wasn't in trouble. I could get away with asking _anything_ then."

"Well, I hope I'm not objectionable when they're calmer. Dare I ask if you 'got away with asking anything' _else_?"

"...Oh, you know. The usual." But Tom shrugged and turned away from her. "Extended curfew and a new racing broom, of course."

When he glanced back, Moira's eyebrows had drawn together, but all she said was, "I got to try the latest Nimbus model over the summer. I thought the reworked steering charms were too sensitive and didn't like it much, but perhaps it would just take getting used to."

"Those new Cleansweeps look impressive, though. I heard England's using them for the next World Cup." His foot was twitching restlessly. He glared at it until it stopped.

"That's probably a good idea. I think the Nimbus developers are still feeling their way a bit; everything has to be experimental. Cleansweep sat on their latest major change until they were sure it would still be as stable as the old spells." She frowned slightly. "Are you all right?"

"Fine."

"Um-hmm." Moira put her foot on top of the one he'd just stopped from fidgeting.

He looked up at her and sighed. "I asked Mum a few questions, that's all. Things Sharessa wanted to know."

"And you didn't?"

"If I'd wanted to know, I would've asked her a long time ago. Sharessa wanted to know," he repeated firmly.

"Ah."

Tom was silent for a few more moments before saying, "She answered."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"I suppose." He sighed. "She told me about my -- about Tom Riddle. How they met, where they lived. Just a little, but...it was more than she'd ever said before."

"I suppose it must be an odd thing to talk about," Moira ventured softly after absorbing this in silence.

He shrugged. "I suppose. It's been more than sixteen years since she's talked about him, after all. Who would she talk to? He was a Muggle." He swallowed the bitterness in his throat. "Nobody knew him."

"No one else." Quietly. "Should I ask what she said?"

Tom blew out a breath. "Nothing. Everything. She didn't really SAY much. Just a bit about how they met." He managed a smile. "Turns out his parents didn't like her any more than hers liked him."

"Seems odd... but they wouldn't have known her either, would they?"

"They knew her more than her parents knew him. Her parents wouldn't even meet him because he was a Muggle. They didn't mind Muggles, of course, but they didn't want Mum _marrying_ one." Tom sighed. "HIS parents just didn't like her because they didn't know her family. Makes you laugh, doesn't it? Two sets of snobs...just in different worlds."

"It's hard for me to imagine anyone _not_ knowing your family, or knowing of it anyway. Even if there's no way they could have."

"Hard for me to imagine too. I wonder if they're still even alive..."

"Seems there must be some way you could find out, but I can't think what...."

He shrugged. "I know the name of the village they lived in. They don't seem the type to change much... they're probably still there."

"Well, if you want to find out...."

"I _don't_!" Tom protested immediately and forcefully. "They didn't want anything to do with me, I don't want anything to do with them. We talked about this already."

Moira shrugged. "You're the one who said you were wondering. I'd certainly hope you didn't mean to leave _now_."

"Just idle curiosity, that's all."

"All right then."

"They had their chance. They didn't want to know me." Tom's voice was very tight.

Moira leaned her head against his shoulder. "How very silly of them."

He snorted. "I've always thought so." He leaned his head against hers for a moment, then looked down and summoned a smile. "Who needs them anyway? I have Mum and Uncle Tavish and Rubeus. And you."

Moira's answering smile looked very kissable.

Tom found that indeed it was. And really, even for the scion of one of wizardry's oldest families and a Muggle without a clue, there were far worse ways to forget to worry about one's ancestors for a while.

*****


	3. Epilogue

_Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling. No undue claim nor material profit is intended._

Authors' note: Sixth in the Stepbrothers AU series, takes place during and after Tom's sixth year and Rubeus's fourth.

**Called to Account  
by Andrea13 and Persephone  
Epilogue**

*****

It was August, a bright, hot day, and Tom Riddle was _not_ studying for his NEWTS.

He had been earlier, but he had stopped looking at his books a few minutes ago.

There was a sunbeam trying to lure him outside.

He went over to open the window wider, and a breeze joined in the urging. Tom glanced back at the books for a moment, then grinned and went to put them away in favor of his broomstick. 

On his way out, he stopped by his mother's workroom. _Tom_ had spent much of the summer with his broomstick confiscated and Rubeus's normal chores instead of his own, as after some thought, neither his mother nor Uncle Tavish was blind to the ramifications of the acromantula discussion the _previous_ summer and would have found it unlikely he didn't know a thing anyway. 

By now, he had his broom back, and if his mother had Rubeus making notes for her one more time, her voice was still half teasing when Tom heard her say, "Your handwriting really has improved remarkably, Rubeus."

A reasonably good-natured sigh. "Yes, Aunt Mary." 

Tom put his head through the door, looking around carefully to make sure nothing was in range to make a grab for it. "Mum? Is it all right if I go flying?"

"Go ahead. Be back before dark, please." She glanced up, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she added, "And yes, Rubeus, you can go on and visit Gus. But _don't_ go flying." 

As Tom left, he was laughing at Rubeus's indignant, "Of course not! He'll be another year growin' at least before I'd ask him to carry _me_."

He wondered what Gus would think about it in a year or two if Rubeus _did_ ask. And then he forgot about that for a while and soared.

As much as he loved the Slytherin dormitories deep in the castle dungeons and spending time with Sharessa deep in the Chamber of Secrets, there was nothing to compare with the sheer joy and _freedom_ of zipping through the air with nothing between you and the open air but a slim piece of wood. The wind blew his air wildly.

Tom laughed in sheer exhilaration as he performed a series of daring dives and spins. In the air alone, he was almost Gryffindor-like. Not that he'd admit this to anyone else. It still won Slytherin the Quidditch Cup in the end, so that was all that mattered.

With the Preserve nearby, there were sufficient anti-Muggle precautions for Tom to enjoy his flight without keeping a weather eye out for observers. But he realized almost too late he should have kept _some_ eye out as a fast-moving blur of brown feathers nearly crashed into him.

He swerved and pulled up hastily, hovering; with an angry hoot, the owl veered back toward him and settled on the end of his broom-handle, glaring balefully and getting a good grip with its talons before holding out a leg with great dignity.

"Oh for--" Tom grumbled and reached out to unwrap the letter quickly, trying to stay balanced. "You couldn't have just gone _home_? Who had the bright idea of owls finding you anywhere?"

The address read, "Mr. T. Riddle, Cleansweep 2, Middle of the Sky, Yorkshire." Tom snorted at this and got the envelope open just as the owl took off, jostling him -- and something small and shiny slipped out. He snatched at it just in time.

Good for Quidditch reflexes. Smaller than a Snitch, but not moving as fast. Tom turned his hand over and opened it to look at the small object nestled in his palm. A badge.

With a great big shiny "HB" embossed on the front.

Hearing he was a "shoo-in" for Head Boy was one thing. Having the proof in front of him was another. The broom dipped alarmingly in mid-air as Tom grinned hugely and shouted, "Uncle Tavish! Mum! Guess WHAT!"

...Of course, they couldn't very well hear him up here, could they?

Hearing he was a "shoo-in" for Head Boy was one thing. Having the proof in front of him was another. The broom dipped alarmingly in mid-air as Tom grinned hugely and shouted, "Uncle Tavish! Mum! Guess WHAT!"

He carefully slipped everything back into the envelope and stuck it securely inside his robes, then started to swivel his broomstick back toward home, but slowed and found himself aiming in a different direction. 

He'd surreptitiously looked it up early in the summer, feeling foolish both for wanting to know and for pretending not to; now he took a long look back toward home and then laid his wand across his palm and whispered, "Point me."

This angle, that distance, and the fastest broom on the market in practice if not in theory. He _could_ make it there and back before dark, or not too much after, if he didn't dawdle. 

Tom leaned low over the handle of his broomstick and shot off toward Little Hangleton.

The whole way wasn't protected, of course, so he had to fly high to be careful against being spotted. He was grateful for having just passed his 17th birthday, so he could cast a small heating charm without having Ministry officials down on him. Why was he even GOING? What was he going to do when he GOT there?

This was a completely ridiculous idea. He should turn back. He WOULD turn back. Any second now.

But his wand was circling on itself now and there was a village below him...

He circled down slowly, keeping sharp eyes out for Muggles. The largest house, that was theirs. Standing apart from itself, just like they held themselves off from everyone else. Or maybe they didn't now. Maybe they were involved in the village and...and he wasn't sure which way he preferred. He _wanted_ to hate them -- his grandparents, the father who'd never even wanted them. But would his stomach be clenching like this if it were just hate?

Tom landed on the opposite side from the town in a last quick dive, thinking halfway down that he'd best land outside the grounds to avoid tripping any protective charms and then remembering that there wouldn't be any. He landed carefully on a garden path and put his broomstick down behind a bush, casting a quick Disillusionment Charm to prevent anyone noticing it.

Of course, he ought to go right back home. He was hardly dressed for going among Muggles; if anyone saw him, he'd have a dreadful time explaining. But then, nobody was likely to see him who didn't live here, and _they_ ought to know there were wizards. 

He'd still have a dreadful time explaining. 

He WOULD go home. But the house stood on a hill overlooking the village, not IN the village itself, and the grounds were quite extensive. He shouldn't run into anyone if he just took a _quick_ look and then left.

That was it. A quick look, then he'd go home like he should. Tom strode quickly through the edges of the grounds until he could see the house itself. It was stately and elegant, if a little new to eyes more accustomed to seeing a thousand year old castle. Tom came to a sudden stop just in front of the low fence that surrounded the house itself, one hand resting on a fence post. He couldn't go any further. 

And yet he had a nearly irresistable image of striding up to those imposing doors, opening them with a quick flick of his wand, and coming across his so-called _family_ sitting down to dinner without a care for him or what had ever become of him. And then he'd--

...He wished he knew.

He looked down for a moment, fishing the envelope back out and then just the badge, putting the letters away again -- he knew nearly all they'd say, after all -- and turning the badge over twice in his fingers. 

He'd brought it _here_. He'd come to look at a house where people lived of whom he knew nothing except that half his blood was theirs, and that they hadn't wanted him or his mother. If they even knew he existed, would they care how he was doing in school?

Tom was about to turn and go back for his broom when an angry shout made him look up. "You there! Lad! What are you doing here and who --"

As he raised his head, the dark-haired man approaching him -- well dressed in the Muggle way, Tom noted absently, and then sucked in his breath at the eyebrows and jawline he always saw in the mirror -- stopped speaking abruptly and looked him up and down, taking in his face and the robes and going a little pale. "--Who are you?" he finished in a more normal tone, the irritation from before replaced by wariness.

Tom didn't say anything for a handful of heartbeats, just stared at the man who looked...so unnervingly like him. He looked down at the badge he still clutched in his hand, then said slowly, "I just made Head Boy at my school and...for some reason, you're the first person I wanted to know."

The man stared at him for a long moment, then reached out a hand toward his chin and let it fall: Tom was already looking at him as directly as could be. "My face and -- Mary's eyes. ...Don't tell me she was --" He broke off with a sharp curse and took a step back. "I shouldn't have thought to see you even if I'd known. What's your name?"

He was expecting it -- should've been expecting it -- and yet the curse at seeing him still hurt. Not as much as a magical curse would've, of course, but...he could've deflected that. "My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Utter disbelief, on the face too much like his own. "She gave you _mine_?"

"I always thought it was rather strange myself," Tom replied coolly.

"I'd have thought --" The elder broke off, tried several abortive sentences that never made it past the throat, and finally settled on, "...How is she?"

Tom fought back from snapping, "Why do you care?" and instead thought for a moment before replying, "She's happy. She married again, raises plants."

"But we never --" Another sudden stop. "I suppose it doesn't matter." A swallow. "Plants. Not much surprise, that."

"No. She needed something restful for a while after I was born. Nearly killed her. Would you have cared?" No, that wasn't how he meant to say it--!

Had his...father...actually _blanched_? "Of course I --" The elder Riddle stopped and closed his eyes. "Of course I would. But of course you wouldn't think so."

"I don't know why I'm even here," Tom muttered, taking a half-step back and folding his arms in front of his chest. "She...told me a little about you. Not much. Enough to find you."

A harsh laugh. "More than I knew of her."

"I can't imagine _why_ she wouldn't want to tell you everything, considering when she DID try to tell you anything important about her you went running back to your parents' house." Tom's words were dry.

"What, that hers thought she'd have done as well to marry a beast?" The words were bitten off and left with a cutting edge.

"Some wizards feel that. Not all. I wouldn't know about them; I never met them."

"Don't tell me she's not talking to them either."

"They died. Just before I was born." Tom's expression could have been etched in stone. "She was all alone."

He saw his father swallow. "I see."

Tom shrugged. He meant the gesture to seem casual, but he could still feel the tension in his face. "If it makes you feel any better, there are people who think having a Muggle parent makes you the next thing to a beast as well." He smiled thinly. "So you're not alone."

The other's lips thinned slightly in response. "I didn't do it to you knowingly."

"No, you just didn't care one way or the other." Another shrug, just one shoulder jerking up in a hard, fast movement. "It's all right, I'm used to it."

"As you must have been on your way by the time Mary thought to tell me anything, what difference would it have made to that if I cared or not?" A long sigh, and before Tom could speak, his namesake did more quietly. "I did care, and do, though it looks as though I'm given no right to any longer."

"Don't try to turn it around on her!" Tom said tightly, bitterly. "_You're_ the one who abandoned your own pregnant wife just because of what she told you. _You're_ the one who left her. _You're_ the one who wanted nothing to do with us. Don't try telling me you cared. If you cared, you wouldn't have LEFT!"

"If you want to know this -- yes. I left. We quarreled, when she finally said she was a witch and started to explain just how much of her life she'd deceived me about without a word of lies. I asked -- and maybe I shouldn't -- what other secrets she might be keeping." A long breath. "I asked if she'd enchanted me into loving her, and when she wouldn't deny it I thought I'd lay hands on her if I didn't do something else -- so I packed up and walked away, said I couldn't live with her now. And I shouldn't have left." The elder Tom Riddle's face was as tight as his son's as he looked down for a moment. "It was still a surprise that when I looked for her again she was gone."

Tom was rigid with shock. "You--you looked for her?"

"Yes. And discovered I didn't have any idea where to find her. She'd barely told me anything about this 'wizarding world'. I didn't know where to find it, or how to get in touch with her. I...can't say I know what I would've done if I _had_ found her, but I looked."

His mother hadn't said -- anything to suggest -- but how could she? If he never found her, she wouldn't have _known_, would she? "I thought you'd hated her. For having magic."

"I didn't know _what_ to think about magic. I thought she was crazy at first," the elder Riddle admitted, not looking at his son. "Magic was just out of stories. But then she _showed_ me and I knew it was real and...all I could think was of how much she'd lied to me."

"Maybe she was afraid you'd react the way you did."

"I could hardly have accused her of lying if she hadn't."

Tom turned abruptly and walked a few feet, stopping and leaning his hands against the short fence that surrounded the Riddle home. He struggled to control his breathing. This--He didn't know _what_ he'd been expecting to happen, coming down here, but...this wasn't it. "If it hadn't been for the lying," he said at last, "if she'd just told you about being a witch, about what her parents thought, would you -- would it have mattered?"

"Would her telling have mattered, or her being a witch?"

"Either. Both."

"Yes." Quiet for a few moments. "I don't know what would have happened, exactly. I didn't know what to think of magic, as I said.... I might have been suspicious still. Maybe we'd have quarreled as badly... but I don't think so. I don't." A wry smile, a half-lift of one shoulder. "I suppose I'd have known sooner her parents disapproved, but if she didn't care for their opinion that was her lookout. Mine were none too fond of her either, though not half so vehement about it."

Tom was staring at the ground. He couldn't quite manage to turn around and look his...father in the eye. There was one question preying on his mind, begging to be asked, but he wasn't sure if he could...

"...Would it have made any difference if you'd known she was pregnant? Would you have...wanted a baby?"

He thought he heard a sigh, and the words came slowly, as if dragged out. "I couldn't have left then. Even if it had only been a spell."

Tom closed his eyes. "Just so you know," he said, very softly, "the use of love spells and potions has been illegal for years. It wasn't a spell."

"I thought not, later. It would have had to be a very good one," his father replied, "as long as it lasted."

Tom's grip tightened, the stone of the fence biting into his palms. Take one stupid misunderstanding, add in two healthy doses of pride, mix in a dash of cosmic irony, and you had his life. "She was happy. She _is_ happy. She loves Uncle Tavish. He -- he's been there since I was _three_; he's the only father I ever knew. The only one I needed."

"...Good."

"_Good_?!"

"Wouldn't you say? Do you think I'd want her miserable, and you fatherless, because I was too much the fool to be there?"

"I don't KNOW what you'd want!" Tom burst out, finally turning back around. "I don't know, because I don't know YOU! I look just like you, I have your _blood_, and I don't KNOW you!"

They stared at each other for perhaps a minute, pulse ticking off some obscure fractions of seconds behind Tom's eyes. Finally, "No. We don't know each other." Very quietly. "Come inside?"

Tom swallowed hard. "I don't need a father," he whispered.

"...I'd still like to get to know you."

Another long pause, then Tom jerked his head in a quick nod. "All right. For a little while."

And he followed his father inside.

*****


End file.
